At This Moment
by hannersbananers44
Summary: A little drabble about what happened after the events of Demonology.
AN: Hey everyone! Here's my second attempt at a Derek/Emily pairing, but really it's more Emily-centric. Obviously they aren't my characters, I just like writing stories. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

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I don't know how long I stand there before my feet find their way up the steps. My fingers fumble with the door handle as I try to make my way inside. It's only then I realize how cold my hands are, how stiff they've become. They're also bare. I thought I put gloves on, but I guess not. They're not in my pockets either. I must have dropped them somewhere along the way, but I can't remember. Who knows. I didn't notice when the snow had stopped falling either.

The rush of hot air when I get the door open stings my face and it's only then that I snap back to reality. It's quiet in here, peaceful despite its size. Part of me feels like in coming here I'm coming home. Exactly the way it should feel.

It's been over twenty years since I've set foot in a church of my own free will. I guess when you see the world in all of its ugliness, it's hard to believe in a merciful and just God. I mean where was he when those men killed Matthew? How about all of those times I've stood beside the tortured body of an innocent victim, limbs strewn about like a rag doll and tossed out like trash? No one deserves that kind of agony. Surely God must know that. But still it happens no matter how much I pray. Isn't this so called gracious God supposed to not only be all powerful, but good? Because he clearly wasn't during any of those times. So is this god I was raised to believe in not all powerful and in control, or does he just not care? So then why do all those people go on about his love and mercy? My head spun more and more with each question. None of it made any sense. I finally understood what Matthew had been talking about all those years ago.

Suddenly I'm fifteen again. Walking into mass on shaky legs. Holding that boy's hand like it was the only thing keeping my feet on the ground and wearing that stupid black dress that was too short and made me feel all too vulnerable in that moment. The terror I felt as all eyes turned towards the two of us is something I have never forgotten.

God how oblivious my parents were. They never had any idea of half the shit I got into as a teenager. Didn't want to know I guess. Or they just didn't care enough to find out. Sometimes it seemed like I was just something they could show off to people. The trophy daughter that completed their perfect little family. I swear all that ever mattered to either of them was making sure our lives looked perfect. At least on the outside. That's why they never got divorced, yet spent most of my life as nothing more than roommates. And I was just another part of that little facade. The well oiled machine that was the Prentiss family. All either of them asked of me was that I keep up appearances. And how cross they would get with me every time I chose not to play along with their stupid little games. Between the anger and the indifference, honestly I'm not sure which was worse.

I don't even notice he's there until I feel his fingers tracing imaginary patterns across my back. I guess I sat down and took my jacket off at some point. Not that I noticed. I don't know how he found me or why he even came. I just know that he shouldn't be here. Not after the way I've treated him the last few days.

I lean my head against his shoulder and exhale. It's the first real breath I've taken since John first told me about Matthew.

"How did you find me?" But in my heart I don't really care how. I'm just glad he did.

"Do you really want to know?" Derek says as he begins to trace soothing patterns up and down my arm. "You don't have to say anything Em, it's okay. We can just sit here." I'm still not sure what I did to deserve someone like him.

I know I should tell him about Italy. He deserves at least that much. But every time I want to say something I stop short, preferring instead to stay in the safe, quiet bubble we've created for ourselves here. We sit there for a long time, at least it feels like it to me, and still it feels like I will never be able to work up the nerve to tell him.

"I had an abortion." The words tumble out of my mouth before I have the chance to stop them.I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to keep talking.

"I was fifteen and terrified. Matthew helped me through the whole thing. I owe him my life." He tries to pull me closer, but I pull away and let my head fall into my hands, elbows resting on my knees.

"And now one of my closest, oldest friends is dead and it's my fault." Hot tears pool in my eyes, but I fight to keep them back. I don't deserve sympathy and even if I did, I wouldn't get any from crying like a child.

"Emily, it's not your fault. You can't blame yourself for this."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because…" But suddenly I want nothing more than to end this conversation.

"Derek, really, I'll be…" I start to say as I turn to look at him, but my voice gets stuck in my throat.

This time I don't try to stop the tears. I just let them fall, hot and thick down my cheeks. Even though I know it's not fair, I reach out for Derek anyways, resting my head against his chest. I feel his strong arms wrap around me, pulling me closer to him. In that moment it felt like those arms would keep me safe from the rest of the world.

There we sat, Derek holding me as I cried over the loss of my best friend, my innocence, and the unborn child whose life I so willingly ended all those years ago. I let myself mourn him and Matthew and the men who had lost their lives because of that priest. Then I cried as I remembered every other person who had fallen victim to the horrors we had seen on the job. I cried until no more tears would leave my eyes. But with those tears came relief. It felt like after all these years, I had done enough to make peace with all of it. That maybe this time, I had done enough to finally begin to heal.


End file.
